


The Size of the Fight

by Aerial312



Category: Divergent Series - Veronica Roth
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-05
Updated: 2014-04-05
Packaged: 2018-01-18 05:11:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1416307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aerial312/pseuds/Aerial312
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tris & Peter's fight in Chapter 11 of Divergent, from Four's POV.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Size of the Fight

**Author's Note:**

> Title: The Size of the Fight (1/1)  
> Author: Aerial312  
> Rating: T  
> Category: Angst, Hurt/Comfort  
> Timeline: Chapter 11 of Divergent  
> Word Count: ~ 1000  
> Disclaimer: I own nothing…I just borrow. Some dialogue belongs to Veronica Roth.  
> Feedback: Greatly appreciated.   
> Note: Four’s POV.

I stand on the edge of the room, arms crossed.  I'm near the door because I'm not sure I want to watch this.  Eric stands next to me, eagerly tapping his foot.  I'd suggested that we might want to wait on this pairing, that it wasn't beneficial to either of them at this point.  Eric just laughed that off, and said she was going to get her ass kicked no matter who we paired her with.  But why pair her with the most vicious fighter in the room the first time out?  She's not one to just give up, so she'll likely take quite a beating.  They are supposed to be learning to fight.

 

Tris steps into the ring and faces Peter.  He'd over a foot taller than her, and nearly twice as broad.  He could snap her like a twig.  She tries to land a punch, but Peter is quick and topples her to the floor.  She's back on her feet quickly—smart to not let him kick her while she'd down.  Though maybe it would be better for her to just end this quickly.

 

"Stop playing with her,"  Eric snaps from beside me.  "I don't have all day." 

 

I take a deep breath as Peter hit hard across her jaw.  She sways.  Come on, Tris, hit the ground.  End this.  Under the old rules—honorable rules—an initiate could concede.  No more.  Somehow I don't think Eric would have liked his own new rule back when he fought me during our initiation. 

 

A kick to the stomach and she's down.  And then back up.  She doesn’t give up.  She'll fight until she cannot.  He yanks her ponytail and punches her across the nose.  It's undoubtedly broken, with blood dripping down her chin.  I swallow hard.  She's up, she's down.  He keeps landing punch after punch, but she holds on with sheer stubborn will.  Tris finally lands a punch, and it doesn't even phase him.  In fact, he laughs as he boxes her ear. 

 

I can't watch anymore.  I shove the door open in disgust and exit into the dim, blue-lit hallway.  The wall is cool on my forehead as I lean against it and try to swallow down the bile in my throat.  It's more than just the reality of Peter and Tris in that room.  Such a mismatched fight, with the larger, stronger aggressor taking pleasure in beating a smaller, weaker victim brings back horrible memories from my childhood.  It's a fear that hasn't gotten better as time as passed.  Sure I'm stronger now—much stronger, but it still…

 

From inside the room I hear Tris scream.  I clench my eyes shut and turn around to press my back to the wall, trying to breath through the sick feeling.  Someone shouts, "Enough!", and I know she's finally down. 

 

The door opens, and Eric sticks his head out.  "Too graphic  for the great Four?"

 

I don't give him the pleasure of a response.  It's too complicated, and he doesn't really care anyways.  He just wants to mock me. 

 

"Pick her sorry ass up off the floor," he sneers, "And take her to the infirmary."   He shakes his head at me, and I glare back, pushing off the wall to follow him.

 

She's unconscious in the middle of the circle, with Will and Christina kneeling beside her.  "Let me through," I tell them, and they part immediately. 

 

"She's out cold, but breathing okay," Christina says. 

 

I nod, sliding one arm under Tris' knees, and the other around her shoulders, cradling her head with my hand.  I don't know if she's got a neck injury.   Will opens the door.  He and Christina start to follow me, til Eric barks, "Stay."

 

The door clicks shut behind me.  I look down at her in my arms.  Her chin is smeared with blood still dripping from her broken  nose, and her cheek is rapidly swelling.  One of her eyes is already swollen shut. A sheen of sweat covers her forehead.  She fought hard.  It's probably better that she's unconscious.  The pain is going to get worse before it gets better. 

 

I reach the infirmary, and lay her down on an open cot. 

 

"Oh man," the nurse, Chloe,  shakes her head.  "This one's the worst you've brought me yet." 

 

I nod.  "She's pretty banged up."

 

"What are you guys doing to those kids?  I don't think there was anyone in my class that would have held out that long before conceding."  She's two years older than me, I think. 

 

"My class too, but l _eadership_ , _"_ I hiss that word, "has new rules.  No conceding allowed."

 

"Hardcore."

 

"That's one word for it."

 

"Let me go get a few supplies, then I'll bandage her up.  I'm going to have to reset that nose.  I might need you to hold her down."  She steps into the supply room. 

 

Tris looks especially small in that bed.  Her hair has mostly fallen out of her ponytail, and strands are stuck to the blood on her cheek.  Her nose has finally stopped bleeding.  I pick the hair loose, and brush it off her face.  There's a washcloth on the table by the bed, and a basin of water.  I wet it and sit on the edge of the bed, gently wiping some of the blood from her cheek. 

 

"Doing my job for me, Four?" Chloe teases, crossing to the bed and laying a hand on my shoulder.  She likes to flirt with me when I bring initiates to the infirmary, but I'm not in the mood today. 

 

I stand up, and hand her the cloth. "Just getting started."

 

Chloe wipes the rest of the blood from Tris' face, revealing a deep purple bruise.  "Stiff can't fight, huh?"

 

"It was her first fight," I tell her, as I make my way to the door.  "She'll learn. She has to."

 

She has to, or she's going to be cut in Phase 1.  I don't want to see that happen, but there's only so much I can look out for her.  She's got a lot of fight in her.  Hopefully it will be enough. 

 

 

 

_"It's not the size of the dog in the fight, it's the size the fight in the dog", Mark Twain_

 

 


End file.
